Chapter 29
by jmsutherland
Summary: The witches arrive in Ankh-Morpork.


Page **9** of **9**

**Chapter XXIX**

It hadn't been easy, at least not for Agnes, to leave the behind the river, _The Pequod, _oh, and quite by the way, without signifying anything whatsoever, Captain Richard Moby. His farewell had consisted in his thanking them each for their charming company, wishing them a safe onward journey and hoping to be able to escort them back when their business was concluded. He then kissed each of their hands in a theatrically gallant way. Moo had giggled, Tiffany had blushed and Agnes' heart had gone thumpity, thumpity, thumpity thump.

Everyone knew that Ankh-Morpork was nicknamed The Big Wahounie, mostly by people who had never been there. Its own citizens called it The Big Onion. According to the much travelled witch, Bae Deker, this was because: "it adds flavour to everything, brings tears to your eyes and boy does it smell".

Of course, Agnes had been here before so she wasn't overwhelmed, though she'd rather forgotten just how overwhelming it was. But as for the other two, well… For Moo everything unusual was a source of wonder, and Tiffany was always open to new experiences; this, however, was clearly of a different order.

The little girl gaped, wide-eyed at everything and Agnes thought she could almost see sparks coming out of her head. Tiffany, for her part, had turned back into a little girl. Whenever Agnes was frightened, or even nervous –which was as lot less often than it used to be, thank you very much- she would instinctively grab the front of her dress with her left hand. Tiffany's left-hand was holding one of Moo's but her right hand, Agnes noticed, was gripping the front of her dress. She looked terrified.

Naturally, this early in the morning, the city wasn't fully awake. It never slept, but it could, occasionally, appear to be dozing-off around three in the morning –"win, lose but never snooze" was an unofficial motto- by four-thirty it was out of bed, yawning, stretching and wondering what sort of mayhem it could cause. It was now six and mayhem was starting to be caused, this way, that way and in the middle. By virtue of her experience Agnes managed to steer them clear of any real danger, but she couldn't protect the little girls from the sheer scale of the place, and the incredible noise. And she couldn't remember there being quite this many flies.

She tried to distract them by pointing out significant sites: the Patrician's Palace, the Opera House, the Monument to Madness…but it was no use; she could tell from their expressions that the three of them were currently living on different Discs.

It was a great relief when they finally reached Apothecary Gardens. The grass and the trees seemed to have a calming affect on Moo –who'd been difficult to keep hold of all the way from the river- and, conversely, managed to wake Tiffany from her dream state.

"It's a very big city," she said.

"It's gigantinormous!" exclaimed Moo.

"You do realise that that is only a tiny part of it, don't you?"

They both looked at her as if she was mad. They clearly didn't believe a word of it. Good old Agnes, she always likes a bit of leg pulling.

"No, really," she affirmed.

"What? Really?" asked Tiffany, very much still not convinced.

"Yes, really. REALLY!" she insisted.

"Oh, my gods!" exclaimed Tiffany.

"Woohoo!" yelled Moo.

The guild house of the Guild of Seamstresses was a large and well appointed mansion set in its own grounds in the middle of the park. It was a handsome building and its surrounding gardens leant it a charming, almost bucolic flavour that made it difficult to reconcile with chaotic riot of a city that surrounded it.

Unlike with most guilds, no formal training of apprentices was undertaken by the Seamstresses –work experience being considered to be the heart of the profession. The guild house itself, along with several other lovely houses throughout the city, served as a retirement home for some guild members who found they were no longer quite so in demand as they once were. In addition, any guild member who had suffered injuries, in what could be a dangerous profession, could convalesce there and obtain the best nursing care outside of Morpork Mercy. It also housed the Agony Aunts, who would gently interview the convalescents, and then forcefully pursue their cases. Nanny Ogg had become friends with the then Guild Mistress, Mrs. Rosemary Palm, some years before. Though Mrs. Palm had since gone off with the Tall Dark Stranger, the current Guild Mistress, Madame Fifi, and she had kept in touch. Consequently, when Agnes, Tiffany and Moo turned up at the door they were both expected and warmly welcomed.

A slender, pretty girl called Blodwyn greeted them and then led them through many huge, bright, airy rooms where the old ladies delighted in putting aside their embroidery to make a fuss of Moo, who seemed to be having a marvellous time. They also wandered through some spotless, sunny hospital wards where the little girl managed to cheer-up all the patients; even the ones with broken arms, broken noses and broken jaws. Apart from a few Igors it was and all-female environment.

In spite of her willowy frame Blodwyn was an Agony Aunt, one of the guild's enforcers. Should any member, going about her lawful business, encounter an unreasonable client it was the rôle of the Aunts to _reason_ with the miscreant, to ensure that the unreasonableness did not recur and that reasonable compensation was forthcoming or, failing that, that some suitable form of recompense was made. Given the nature of the job, Agony Aunts tended to be the sort woman who could go a few rounds with Cutthroat Kate, and there weren't many men who could do that.

Blodwyn just didn't look the type, but looks could be deceiving. She was from Llamedos and played something called _Rygbi_. This _game_ was close to the exact opposite of Messy Rules, in that it had so many rules that the average passage of uninterrupted play lasted about five seconds, before one of the team of referees blew his whistle to stop it. You could be penalised for being offside, onside, nearside, far-side, open-side, closed-side or backside.

It involved an egg-shaped ball that you weren't allowed to be infront of, but were frequently not allowed to be behind either. The only thing _Rygbi_ didn't seem to have a law against was assaulting your opponent with extreme violence. This was known as _taaackling_ and seemed to be the only thing that anyone was interested in. Blodwyn was known to _taaackle_ people in such a way that they ended up in hospital. There were twenty-eight players on each team and each position had its own name. She was the Closed-side Backward Flanker. She'd always wanted to play Hooker, but was too slight.

The current joint heads of the Agony Aunts were Big Morag –who was four feet eleven- and Wee Janet –who was six foot four. Janet was a gentle soul with pretty face, a sweet nature, a lovely smile, ham-bone forearms and fists of iron that could punch their way through a brick wall. Morag, by contrast, was a seething, fire-haired bag of barely controllable aggression –more like a very large pictsie than a very small human. They both came from the Baffled Islands –Glaikit, Mawkit and Drookit- on the other side of The Hub. The islands were famous for four things: appallingly bad weather, very hairy cows, an almost poisonously strong drink called _usquebaugh_ –from which modern-day whisky was thought to derive- and also being the legendary homelands of the Nac Mac Feegle.

"Hullaw, hens, come away in," said Morag, "and sit yersels doon."

Fortunately, she pointed at the three chairs in front of her desk, so they didn't have to ask for a translation. After a couple of minutes of questions, which Blodwyn translated, Morag concluded with:

"Right, well, yeez ur mair than welcome and we'll look efter yeez right weel. Noo it's time fur yeez tae see the Big Wummin."

"The interview is over, isn't it," Blodwyn offered, helpfully.

Janet hadn't said a word throughout, just beamed at them.

The Mistress of the Guild of Seamstresses was Madame Fifi. If she had ever so much as sewn a button on a blouse in her whole life, thought Tiffany, then I'm a troll, and not just any old troll, but Mr. Shine himself, and him diamond. It was said that she had often been a mistress and occasionally a courtesan, but obviously only at the most glittering courts on The Disc.

She opened the door to Blodwyn's knock and flashed them the most dazzling smile any of them had ever seen.

"Come in, mes petites, come in," she gushed, beckoning them forward.

Tiffany doubted that anyone could even guess how old she was, though she could tell that Madame was wearing a lot of makeup she doubted that there were many others who could: it was so expertly applied that it almost looked natural. It was only her eyes –which gave the impression of having seen a great deal more than they would have liked- that suggested she was a great deal older than she appeared.

"Good morning, ma'am," they said in unison as they curtsied.

"Do 'ave a seat," said Madame Fifi motioning them towards the three chairs in front of her desk.

"Thank you, ma'am," they again said as one.

The mistress seated herself behind the desk, placed her down-facing hands beneath her chin and looked at them intently.

"Alors," she began, "do you know why you are 'ere?"

"Not really, ma'am," said Tiffany.

"Zis will make fourr of us," Madame Fifi chuckled, "'owever, my good friend zee Patrician tells me that you are ver' important and that I must take great care of you."

Agnes was astonished. As far as she knew, The Patrician of Ankh-Morpork was, quite possibly, the most important person on The Disc. That he should know who they were was amazing; that he should think they were _important_ was almost shocking.

After a few more minutes of pleasantries Madame Fifi said:

"Zo, you will want to settle into your rooms and zen I 'ope you will join me for lunch, no?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am," they said in chorus, nodding. With that they knew they had been dismissed, and Blodwyn was waiting for them outside the door.

Tiffany hadn't been keen on them having separate rooms, as she wanted to keep Moo as close to her as possible, but it turned out that Madame Fifi and she didn't understand _rooms_ in quite the same way. There was a bedroom with three neat little beds, a sitting-room with two armchairs and a sofa and a bathroom with hot and cold running water. She thought it was luxurious. Meanwhile the only word on Agnes' mind was _lunch_.

Lunch was delicious, of course –though not always identifiable- as the whole catering staff was from Genua, like Madame Fifi herself, who did indeed join them to talk about inconsequentialities while nibbling some bread and paste

They then whiled away the afternoon in the gardens, cheered up the old and unwell in the evening, had a sumptuous dinner and by the end of day one were thoroughly settled in. They still had no idea why they were there, though.

Moo was in bed and Agnes and Tiffany were sitting opposite each other in the armchairs.

"So, what do we do now?" asked Agnes.

"We wait," replied Tiffany.

"For what?"

"I don't know, for _something_, I suppose."

But _Something_ was already waiting for them.


End file.
